Gu Qian lowered her eyes and stared at her toes, feeling somewhat aggrieved. She stood there dumbly for a moment, unable to muster the courage to knock again, and finally turned to go upstairs.
In the study, Mo Beichen slammed the door shut after her departure, leaned against the door frame, his handsome face turning cold and pale, but his heartbeat was fast. He felt like a fool; she gave a little honey, and he would develop endless expectations.
Maybe she was only forced to come by Aunt Zhou to deliver his dinner.
He lowered his eyes to look at the steaming porridge, and after a while, heard the sound of slippers drifting away on the floor tiles outside the door. He let out a bitter smile, mocking himself for being unnecessarily sentimental again.
He tightened his grip on the tray and strode over to the office desk; his phone promptly rang. He answered, coldly asking, "What's up?"
